The war against reclining

Picture this. It’s 7 in the morning and you’re boarding your bus in Luang Prabang, Laos for the 10 hour trip back to Vientiane. It was a tough ride on the way up, so your apprehension is peaked for the return journey.

There’s also the fact that the guy driving the bus bears a striking resemblance to the guy you saw passed out drunk in the markets the night before. You’d worry, but the petrol fumes pouring through the air conditioning unit are bludgeoning your thoughts, which is also a bonus because the trip through the Laos mountains must be where the phrase ‘the valley of the shadow of death’ comes from.

But you have your seat, and with no one in front of you at least you’ll be borderline comfortable for ten hours. Then they board. Two continental Europeans. Noisy. Late. Wearing matching hot pink bandanna’s. And with only two seats left on the bus guess where they’re sitting?

The guy wastes no time and as soon as he’s sat down goes into a full body lunge, feet pressed against the seat in front of him to maximise leverage as he pushes his seat back until his headrest is lodged between your veterbrae. Infuriating.

Now you would think when this happened to me, I would just say “Ummm, excuse me Hans. I can see your enjoying your extra seat space, and I hate to be a bore, but your currently cleaving several of my most vital internal organs in two. By the way, matching headbands, how courageous! They look great.”

But I couldn’t. Firstly, I avoid confrontation like the Catholic Church. Secondly, there’s like a 10-15% chance this guys name wasn’t Hans. And finally, the bandanas looked ridiculous, and I’m not fond of lying. That in itself is a lie, but you get my point.

So instead I have to suffer because of someone else’s selfishness. But I have had enough, and it’s time to do something about it. I’m calling my new plan, “Operation Enduring Comfort”. My partner is calling it “Can we stop talking about this? It’s been weeks since we were on the bus and I’m trying to pay for our hotel.” Fear not though fellow freedom-lovers, I will not bow down in the face of hostility, or in this case, overwhelming disinterest. Jesus had his detractors too. He was called Judas. Not that I’m comparing myself to Jesus. Or my partner to Judas. But if the sandals fit…

Messianic complexes aside, the solution seems simple now that I’ve thought about it. All we need to do is move the seat recline controls from our own seats to those behind us. That way if someone wants to recline, they’re forced to confront the person who it will affect the most, kind of like when perps have to confront their victims in jail.

I can see Hans smirking face now. “Excuse me Kev, I was wondering if you’d mind if I made your trip infinitely more uncomfortable so that I could have a troubled snooze at 45 degrees rather than a fitful one at 35. Hmmmmm?” At which point I would fake him out my pretending to push the button and then say “Mmmmm…no. HAHAHAHAHAHA.”

Upon hearing this my partner suggested maybe there should be just one big button and either all the seats were down or up. She’s always had a whiff of the totalitarian about her though, and upon further questioning I was left with no doubts as to who would be in control of the button. So after she fell asleep that night I whispered forcefully to her that we couldn’t abide that kind of thinking in the Coalition of the Sitting.

So this suggestion goes out to all plane, bus and train builders. Move the seat controls. And to all you civilians out there, there can be no more sickening Swiss neutrality, it’s time to pick a side. There’s a war coming. As far as I’m concerned, you’re either with us or, both figuratively and literally, against us.

This obnoxious British lass did that to me once, I was too frustratingly polite to say anything as well.

After a while i noticed she had fallen asleep (not hard to tell, her head was more or less in my lap.) She was wearing one of those flat-topped military style hats. So I grabbed my permanent marker and wrote my name across the top of her stupid bloody hat. VICTORY!

I often find that a performance of loud coughing and wheezing coupled with indications of impending motion sickness enough to make any reclining Rodney pull a face and sit up straight before you can say “dramamine”.

When someone does that to me on a plane, I just push on the back of their seat, and they generally get the message. Of course, you have to do this immediately as they are pushing the seat back.

I had a QANTAS flight once where I wore the video screen in my face . I complained to the ” lovely QANTAS flight steward “, who, so sweetly said ” she is entitled to have her seat back if she wants .” Ignorant people.

Unfortunately, you kind of need to have that conversation and actually ask someone if its ok if they don’t recline with their head in your lap. Otherwise you’re condemning yourself to various creative and petty passive aggressive techniques to get them to shift or teeth-grinding and high blood pressure as you ruminate on how much it is pissing you off.

Yep, actually speaking to someone about not reclining isn’t always going to receive the desired result which is a shame. But if you aren’t going to engage the person in a sociable manner, suck it up.

That’s the same logic behind my sitting up in bed and asking someone crunching plastic bags at 2am in the hostel dorm to quieten the fuck up, please? Better than lying there and building up my blood pressure to coronary levels.

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KEVIN OâFAIRCHEALLAIGH IS 28 AND IN 2009 DECIDED TO ABANDON ALL DOMESTIC COMMITMENTS AND TO HAVE ONE LAST BIG ADVENTURE BEFORE THE IMPENDING DOOM OF 30. WITH THAT IN MIND, HE AND HIS PARTNER PACKED AN AMBITIOUSLY SMALL BACKPACK EACH AND HEADED OUT TO SPEND A YEAR EXPLORING ASIA AND EUROPE, WITH A BRIEF SOJOURN INTO NORTH AFRICA.

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